Born Into Blood
by SapphireMalice
Summary: [No longer a oneshot]. 'She had been hurried up the stairs and out of sight as soon as the first hooded guests had apparated. She had been told by her mother in no uncertain terms that they weren't to be interrupted.' Rosalie, daughter of Lucius and Narcissa, younger sister of Draco, stumbles into a meeting she really shouldn't have.
1. I

**Welcome to this little thing. I wrote these 2 chapters as a oneshot just to get the ideas out of my head and into… somewhere. That somewhere is here. Enjoy. :)**

The dining room, though grand, was dimly lit and grim. The warm glow that should have come from the crackling fireplace was somehow subdued by the harsh room and its occupants, their dark robes absorbing its light.

That was what Rosalie Malfoy knew of, anyways. She had been hurried up the stairs and out of sight as soon as the first hooded guests had apparated. She had been told by her mother in no uncertain terms were they to be interrupted, but that must have been at least an hour ago - though she wasn't quite sure: time was still a rather new concept for the five year old. Bored and restless, Rosalie set out to do what little sisters did best, and set off to find her brother.

Knocking exactly five times, she rocked on her feet until she heard an answer.

"Who is it?" The voice of her brother replied, a hint of annoyance already laced into his polite tone.

"Me," Rosalie answered. Without waiting for an invite she opened the door and walked in, settling on the corner of his bed.

"What do you want, Rosie?" He sighed irritatedly, a hand holding his forehead as he hunched over his desk. Spread out in front of him were quills, parchment, what looked to be a three foot long essay in progress and a precarious stack of books on his right. "I'm a little busy."

Rosalie had a hard time understanding why he still had work over the Christmas holiday. "Do you _have_ to do that now?" She huffed, jumping off the bed to peer over his shoulder. His notes were condensed and Rosalie could not pronounce most of the words.

"If I want to pass my OWLs, yes," he replied.

"I can help!"

"No, Rosie, it'd be better if you jus-"

"Ple-ase…" she let the word draw out for as long as it needed, watching her brother's grip tighten around his quill.

"Alright, fine!" He sighed in exasperation. He nodded towards the pile of books as he continued his essay. "I need a book. _Magical Drafts and Potions_."

Pointing her finger over the spines of the books as she did so, Rosalie went down the stack until she found it, a few from the bottom. Grabbing both sides, she pulled the book.

"Wait, no, Rosie- you'll-" but her brother's spluttered warning came too late. With a single sway, the books first collided with the desk. _A Brief Introduction to Magical Theory_ hit an ink bottle, sending deep blue shards across the boy's work. The books then fell to the floor with a crash, the thick ink dripping from the table onto their leather bound covers.

Rosalie backed away slightly, watching her brother's nostrils flare in silent rage. "Uh, I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean t-"

"I swear, you're more stupid than a BLOODY FLOBBERWORM!" He fumed, kicking a book for effect.

"It was an accident, Draco, I swear!" Rosalie felt terrible, truly, she did. But there was something quite funny about her brother's reaction that she couldn't help the smile creeping onto her face, try though she did to hide it. But that just fuelled his anger.

"YOU'VE DONE IT THIS TIME," he yelled, rising from his chair. With a yelp of both genuine fear and glee at the thought of a chase, Rosalie darted from the room, Draco not far behind. Not stopping to look back, the young witch raced down the marble stairs, rushing through the left corridor. Screeching to a halt at the first door she found, she heaved the handle open, squeezing through the gap before slamming it shut behind her and barricading it with her back.

She was so out of breath and her heart was racing so fast that it took her a few seconds to take in her surroundings. It was a cold room. Gloomy, too. Except for the fireplace on the opposite side to where the girl stood. Between them was a long table, each chair taken by a witch or wizard in dark robes. And every one of them was staring at her.

All but the one at the head of the table, closest to her. The tall back of the chair blocked them from her sight, though his pale, bony hand was resting on the table.

The room was silent but for the crackle of the fire. After what felt like an eternity, someone spoke. The man in the chair. His voice was higher pitched than average, yet clear as glass.

"Who is it, Lucius?"


	2. II

Lucius Malfoy picked at his collar as he began to sweat. Staring intently at the dark oak table in front of him, he stuttered a reply. "M-my daughter, my lord," he winced, expecting the worst. Instead, a dry laugh came from the head of the table. His hand beaconed the girl to come forward. Without realising it, Rosalie's legs pushed her towards the mysterious speaker. She was at the table, barely able to see over it, next to the man. If that was the word. He was pale to the point of being ghostly. His eyes were red and his nose was nothing but two slits… He looked horrifyingly similar to a snake.

"Your daughter," the man repeated, barely speaking above a whisper. He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, and took his wand from his sleeve. There was a shift in movement along the table, anticipating what would happen. He moved his wand with a swish and a flick, aiming at the girl. Rosalie felt herself being pulled upwards, as if her robes were on a string being reeled in. Now a few feet in the air, she was level with the man. "And what's your name?" He simpered, though his question had no hint of genuine unknowing.

"Rosalie Malfoy," she replied, looking over the faces across the table as she did. Her gaze came to rest on her mother, whose eyes were wider than usual and lips mouthing something under her breath. Rosalie quickly amended her answer. "My lord."

His cold smile widened as he relaxed in his chair, apparently satisfied with her response. "A true pure-blood witch!" He exclaimed. "Though, I cannot help but wonder, if she's a true _Malfoy_."

Lucius, who had breathed a sigh of relief not a moment before, visibly tensed again. "M-my lord?"

"It would seem that the girl…" he arched his wand, and Rosalie felt herself gravitate parallel to the table until a flick of his wrist brought her back into the group, though now her mother was on her left. "... belongs to the House of Black."

There was a general chuckle from the table and a cackle to Rosalie's right. Next to her was a woman whose tangle of dark curls covered most of her face - not too dissimilar to the girl's. Draco had always teased her about it: she used to have nightmares that she was adopted from Muggles.

"Perhaps you've not had the pleasure of meeting your aunt. Bellatrix has been… busy," the man said, entertained by the whole show.

Bellatrix, who had been jeering, pouting, and generally pulling faces at the girl, snapped to attention at the mention of her name. "Always to serve you, my lord!" she bowed her head solemnly for effect.

Rosalie felt herself being drawn back to the head of the table. It was embarrassing, to say the least, being passed along like a salt shaker at dinner. But she knew better than to speak her mind: personal opinions were not becoming of a lady. The only sign of the girl's discomfort was the red flush in her cheeks as her eyes darted around the room.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to look towards the future," the man was addressing the entire table. "Young Rosalie will no doubt be joining our ranks when she is of age?" He asked, expecting no answer. He turned his head slowly to face the girl. "Tell me, Rosalie. What do you think of _Muggleborns_?"

Rosalie stared blankly at him. She understood the question, but not its content. That word… it was new to her. Fiddling with her sleeve, she swallowed her pride. "Muggleborns?"

"Surely you are aware…" he sounded amused, though there was an edge to his voice as he looked at the girl's parents. "... of wizards born into Muggle families?"

"Oh, you mean Mudbloods!" Rosalie exclaimed. There was a low ripple of laughter around the table - though Bellatrix's cackle pierced through it. The man seemed satisfied… pleased, even. Only Lucius and Narcissa sat, rigid and ashen, shocked at their daughter's vulgarity. Rosalie wasn't sure what was so funny. Draco had told her all about Mudbloods and their filth - there was one girl in his year that sounded particularly repulsive. They knew nothing of wizard culture nor held any noble ancestry. Instead they dragged their mundane lifestyles into the wizarding world, like mud on boots.

"It would appear that we have nothing to worry about," the man said. With an unceremonious flick of his wand, Rosalie was dropped back onto the ground. His hand seized her chin in what must have been an affectionate manner, though his hand was cool and his grip was tight. He raised it so that she had no choice but to look up at him, as he examined her face with his cold, calculating eyes. "Yes... you'll make a fine Death Eater, child."

With that, he released the girl and dismissed her. Rosalie scurried out of the dining room, carefully shutting the door behind her as she took in everything that just happened. She didn't know it yet, but she'd find out soon enough.

She had just met one of the greatest wizards of all time.

She had just met Lord Voldemort.

 **I know I said oneshot but I've got stuff working in my head as to where this story could go. I'm talking pureblood kid growing up into the lovely world of death eaters with a angst-ridden brother, spineless father and deranged aunt as her mentors. Charming. Let me know if that's something you'd read!**


	3. III

**So there's at least one person interested in this continuing, so… this ones for you, KateTheCat. :)**

Rosalie paced around her room for the next half hour. Or perhaps it was a full hour. Despite her very best efforts, no book or toy could distract the girl from the swirling thoughts inside her head. Her mother's instructions had been clear. What had she just walked in to? Why did her parents look so stiff? Was it something she said? And most importantly… who _was_ that man?

Her musings were cut short by a sudden _pop_. The house elf appeared at the door, bowing her head. "Master Lucius wishes to see Miss Rosalie in the library. Fenny will be escorting Miss now!" she ended on a squeak, holding open the door of the bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Rosalie marched forward, following the elf until they came to the oak double doors. The elf gave her no time to prepare as she swung the large doors open and gestured for the girl to go through. No sooner had she stepped foot into the room than she was backed up against a tall shelf of books, her father's hands firmly on her shoulders.

"What in _Merlin's_ name were you playing at, child?" He seethed, his pale eyes boring into her. "Humiliated, in front of the greatest wizards of the _century-_ "

"That's enough, Lucius," Narcissa's voice rang out from an armchair, hands folded and back stiff. With a final scowl, Lucius shook his daughter free. Rosalie made her way timidly to where her mother sat. She started to fidget with her hair, bracing herself for the verbal onslaught that was no doubt coming her way.

"What did I tell you, Rosalie?" Her voice was calm, gentle even, though she kept her gaze to the floor. Rosalie looked down, swallowing hard. Despite the question, she knew better than to answer back.

"Are you aware of the position you have put us in?" Her mother continued, her voice wavering slightly; she was just maintaining her composure. Rosalie twirled a lock of hair around her fingers as she pursed her lips.

"Will you stop playing with your hair and _listen to your mother!_ " Lucius spat, pausing his stalk around the room.

"Jealous, are we?" A voice teased from behind Rosalie. She spun around. There, skulking between the bookshelves was Bellatrix, her own mess of hair obstructing half her face from being seen.

"Never of you," Lucius snapped back, walking away from her.

Narcissa rose without a word or second look at her daughter, joining Lucius at the window looking out onto the dark grounds. They exchanged hushed mutters, staring icily at each other in what could only be a whispered argument. Rosalie, who had been avoiding her aunt as best she could, dared to glance up at the older witch. Bellatrix stared back at her, pouting, before a smirk crept onto her face. Her fixed stare made Rosalie uncomfortable. Exposed. The girl tried to focus on the book lying on the low table in front of her, tracing the shape of the letters on its cover with her eyes, but she couldn't shake the fact that she was being watched. She could see Bellatrix out of the corner of her eye, slinking around the room and inviting herself into the dispute by the window; Lucius' sneer made it clear she was unwelcome. Bellatrix leaned on the wall. She said nothing, her tongue poking out of her mouth slightly as she entertained herself by watching the pair. Her silent watch was enough to put Lucius off, too, who lost his train of thought and began to stammer. Finally, he turned to address Rosalie. "Leave us now. Get to your room," he uttered each word with precision, as if trying to assert control over _something_. With a final glance at her parents and their… guest… Rosalie backed out of the library and raced upstairs.

Instead of turning into the corridor leading to her own bedroom however, Rosalie headed for her brother's. If anyone would explain things to her, it would be him. She knocked just three times - for she didn't want him to send her away immediately. There was a brief pause before he spoke. "...Rosie?"

With a heavy sigh, Rosalie pushed open the door and barrelled into Draco, wrapping her arms around his waist. He patted her hair gingerly before prising the girl off him and sitting her on his bed.

"What happened to you?" He asked, his question sounding both concerned and accusatory.

"Remember how mother said we weren't to go into the dining room..?" Rosalie said sheepishly.

"You didn't…" Draco fell into his desk chair, staring at his sister. "Well? What happened?"

"Well… they were all sitting around the table. I saw Mr Crabbe, and Mr Goyle, and lots of others I didn't know," Rosalie fiddled with the quilt on the bed, picking at a loose stitch. "And there was a man at the head of the table, but he looked really strange, Draco… like a snake and a ghost all mashed up-"

"That wasn't just _a man_ , Rosalie," Draco said sternly. He looked at her blank face. "You know who that was, right?"

Rosalie shook her head, pursing her lips. Draco scoffed. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. "That was the Dark Lord, you bloody toad."

Rosalie furrowed her brow as she joined fragments of knowledge in her head. Yes, she'd been told stories - mostly by Draco - about the Dark Lord, but she never had a face in mind. And yet it all started to click together: the guests. The meeting. The questions. Rosalie let out a quiet gasp.

"The Dark Lord," she repeated in a whisper. She looked up at her brother, her eyes wide. "We have an aunt, too. Aunt Bellatrix. She's been busy working for-" she gulped. Even his name seemed to carry power. "-for the Dark Lord…"

"She wasn't _busy_ , she was in Azkaban," Draco sniffed. He shook his head, apparently clearing his mind free of thought. "What did father say?"

"Father was uh, angry…" Rosalie shifted on the bed. "He sent me up."

The two sat in silence for a while, mulling things over, before Rosalie spoke again. "Draco? Mother asked if I realised the position I've put us in. What did she mean?"

It had been bothering her since Narcissa had said it. For all her severity, there was what sounded like fear in her voice.

Draco squinted his eyes. " _How_ would I know?" He replied exasperatedly.

"Right, sorry," Rosalie said, taking that as her cue to leave and hopping off the bed. "Goodnight, then,"

"Night."

"Oh, Draco?" She paused at the door, remembering something else from the evening. "The Da-" she sighed, unable to bring herself to using his name. "You-know-who said… I'd be a really good Death Eater. What's that?"

Draco's jaw stiffened as he connected her question to the one before, a grim thought flitting into his mind. Pursing his lips, he looked up at his little sister, barely old enough to even begin to understand the situation.

"Go to bed, Rosie."


End file.
